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EDEN BENIBO

Writer, Story teller & thought Leader

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Aloud

Aloud

The Neighbour’s Story

by Eden Benibo February 20, 2018

Life is too short to stay too long around those who make you feel less of yourself”- @edenbenibo #Breakaway
Inspired by: The Neighbour’s story.
…it’s annoying to see people who
-stab you
And ask why you are bleeding
-starve you
And ask “are you hungry?”
-Push you
..and ask “why you fall na?”
-Hurt you
and… and… and… The Neighbour’s story loading…

February 20, 2018 21 comments
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Aloud

I Knew You- By- Benson Oseghe

by Eden Benibo January 10, 2018

Benson Osegheđź””
We describe him as art personified. A young man of few words with so much impacts. As a poet and a fine artists in duality, he has stood out beyond all odds as one of the gifted souls to look out for. Below is an indispensable piece written by Benson~ Titled: I Knew~~~~~~~

I knew you before makeup ever touched your face
Right before you started laying Foundation like a bricklayer
Before you kissed those lipsticks and groom those eyebrows
Before you let those contours and blushes define your beauty
I knew you before those eyelashes exaggerate the way you blink and those piercings affected the way you think
I knew you before you scrambled nature’s very design
Before you ever try to replace what was needed with what you wanted
I knew you before your face added shades
When you were young, pure and naive

I met you before snapchat added filters to your self-esteem
Before selfies put only you in the picture
Even in a group photo you only care about your smile
I met you before you ever updated your status with lies
I knew your ugly sides before your mood swing found comfort disguised in sent emojis

We’ve talked without dictions or borrowed accents
You’ve come visiting caring not about looks but decent
But now you seek advice from the mirror like a native doctor
I met you when the world gazed at the sound of your laughter but now you barely even smile at a conspicuous joke
You feel some breaking in your face when you laugh too deep
But beauty ain’t no prison
Now to your question about how you look
You look like you’ve been messing with PERFECTION lately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks Benson! This is a masterpiece indeed.  We look forward to tasting more of your salted words. Glow on dear!!

January 10, 2018 8 comments
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Aloud

4 Steps To Soaring In This New Year

by Eden Benibo January 3, 2018

Sure, no one wants to end the year staggering within the ‘circle of regrets’ but it all goes beyond making mere wishes. No doubts it’s good to pray but we also have a part to play and the role of building our knowledge bank cannot be over emphasised.
On this 3rd day of the year 2018, we bring to you~ 4 Steps To Soaring In This New Year

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walking through the stairs of 365 days without missing steps, go beyond making new year resolutions. Taking each day as a step on the stairs of this new phase-(2018), we would realise that as days crawl into weeks and weeks run into months in the course of the year, the will to thrive beyond all odds may begin to dwindle. As a result of this, hopes will definitely fall whenever we miss our steps in the course of this journey.
To this end, it is important for us to note that It’s not enough to ‘make’ new year resolutions; it’s more paramount for us to become them.

Yes! Become those resolutions! Consequentially, this connotes that each day counts! In other words, those tiny seconds, little minutes and few hours in each day matters a lot.
In other not to get the same result at the end of this new year, we must change our approach to life in general.
It’s high time we realised that-
°Change isn’t just a theoretical phenomenon
°Change isn’t a part of life
°Change is life itself-
So, it’s either we live it or it leaves us behind.

â—ŹStart Now! Start Right

Sometimes, we never discover the beginning until the end. This is why many are left stuck in heaps of regrets towards the end of the year, but hey! This is another phase, another beginning to determine the end. There’s no better time to execute those beautiful plans in your head than now. “A good plan vigorously executed right now is far better than a perfect plan executed next week”.- General George Patton

â—ŹStart Right
It’s never wrong to start right; but the big question is- HOW DO WE START RIGHT?
The first step to starting right begins with the mind. Most times, life may leave our minds clogged up with so much negativities that we tend to close our hearts to the opportunities that come knocking. Goals and dreams seem to be far fetched, especially when one is surrounded by people who are ready to give 101 reasons to be contented with failure.
Here, it is required that you go not just steps away, but miles far from these negativities. No wonder Gandahi said-” I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feets. Bill Newman also asserted that “minds certainly are like parachutes, they only function when they are open”. Indeed, an open mind is most sensitive to even the faintest footprint of opportunities, rather than lingering within the confine of self pity.

â—ŹLive Ready!

How ready are we, for the opportunities we crave for? The truth is, opportunities are right there on each step of the stairs. As we build on our abilities, we lay a stronger foundation for our capabilities.
Learn something new each day! “In time of drastic change, it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned usually find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exist”. -Eric Hoffer
“The illiterates of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write but those who cannot learn, unlearn and relearn.”,-Alvin Toffler

â—ŹCarrying People Along

Imagine a life where you have the whole world to yourself, just you with nobody else. No one to share the wealth with, or the joy, peace and love – if there will even be any…
As we go through the steps on these stairs of 2018, let’s remember that we all need each other, regardless of the ‘buts’. Therefore, we need not get too serious with life that we forget to put a smile on a face each day in this new phase. We need not push ourselves off the stairs, for everyone has a pace, a lane and a destination which is the beauty of life.
“It’s not how high you climb, but how many people you are prepared to take with you”.- Dale Carnegie

As you go through these stairs, remember, taking the wrong steps will never get you the right result.

Just Live the change you desire! start now! Start right! Live ready!
And always carry people along
You may not have silver to deliver
But you sure do have love and care to share.

Cheers! To this new dawn

~E D E N

January 3, 2018 11 comments
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AloudEXPRESS~SHUN

A Letter To Writers -By- Grace Eseohe Okosun

by Eden Benibo December 1, 2017

Express ~Shun
Grace Eseohe Okosunđź””
Here’s another epitome of strength untold, who is currently an undergraduate of the University of Benin (UNIBEN)…International Studies and Diplomacy.
Over and over again, Grace has proven to be a huge source of inspiration in a world full of so many ups and downs. Beyond the negativities that life brings, she has risen above the ashes to become the product of a heated refinement.
As a poet, columnist and a motivational writer, she strongly believes that “if you can’t change the world then don’t let the world change you”.
Her ultimate goal is to make the world a better place through the instrument of motivational writings. She believes (and I concur) that ” The power of words is not synonymous with the power of grammar.~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today on Express~Shun we have a sagely written piece by Grace, titled- A Letter To Writers. Which is a must read for both writers and readers.
Here’s the full Piece

Dear Writers,
This Morning, I woke up, with an a blazed desire, to read a Story that has never been written, but could not find it in my library. It’s not because, the story doesn’t exist, but because, it has been buried in some one’s heart. Wait a minute, maybe the story has been written but has not found full expression in the hearts of readers.
Every writter, has a Special way of changing thoughts to words, with the unconscious and conscious goal of affecting their World.
Never underestimate the power of words.
“A word, after a word, after a word is power”___Margaret

Words in the minds of writers are like cold waters, but on papers, are like ovens, which has the capacity to bake every broken dream and heart.
We should have this consciousness as Writers, that words can light fires in the hearts of men.
As a Writer, I have noticed that, nowadays, writers forget what writing entails and embraces what writing detests. Many Writers, write for fame, power, oppression and vain appreciation.
The power of words is not synonymous with the power of grammar.
Your Intellectuality is not a ticket to “writing”. Writing goes beyond that.
Its high time, writers, stopped manipulating oppression and expression.. Let us pay more attention to ” Expression” than “words” because, not all words are expressive, Some are oppressive. Oppressive words, have the capacity to oppress the feelings of a reader,the moment he/she tries to grip, the message ,immediately he gets entangled in his bewilderment, thus,creating a lacuna between the writer and the reader. Let’s spare the high sounded grammar and ambiguity, writers should pay homage to simplicity.
A Dying man, who is about jumping off a bridge, won’t have time to check a dictionary. Let your message speak louder than your words.
Let, writing be an addiction and dedication.
“Their is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”___Maya Angelou.
Some stories untold, are the miseries and regrets , speaking in the hearts of men___Grace.E.Okosun.
Spill every word in your heart, even if its a nonsense” , it is needed to correct peoples “senses”. I am sure that no word is too small or too insignificant to make an impact.
Let writing, be a passion to writers, that, it can make us,wake up in the middle of the night, to write when others are drowning in snores.
” You never have to change anything you woke up in the middle of the night to write “____ Saul Bellow.
Let writing not be a barrier to writers.
“There is nothing to writing. All you need to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed”___Ernest Hemingway.
The biggest punishment a writer can exert on him/ her self,is to bury words in their hearts, humanity ,will never celebrate you, neither will you celebrate yourself.
Writers are Readers.
Writers should be readers. Most of us are writers today, because someone wrote what inspired us to write, most of us are great writers today , because we gained inspiration from a writer’ s work.
” The limits of my language, is the limit of my world “___Ludwig Wittgenstein.
Writers should note that,If you dont have time to read , you don’t have time to write as well.
Let us, set a Principle,for our young and up coming writers to follow. Over time writing has been abused and misinterpreted, let us restore the manifold glory of writing, in order to give the full contents of it to readers.
People need us, to still believe that their is a tomorrow.
Let us, write, while we still can.
” If there is a book, that you want to read, but has not been written yet, then you must write it”___Toni Morrison.
This is a Mandatory call to all writers, to write when, they can, no matter, the situation and condition.
The “world” is getting closer to ” Words ” and I see a future, where, writers will rule the world.
I want you all, to know that “Not Everyone” that writes is a writer, don’t dare to write ,when you can, words are powerful, they can send the wrong signal and they can put back together a shattered world.
” Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never put back together unless and until all living humans read the book”____ John Green.
That is the power of words…….

Yours’ Motivationally
Okosun.E. Grace.

December 1, 2017 10 comments
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Aloud

You. Are. Not. Alone.

by Eden Benibo November 30, 2017

From My Art To Your Heart
This One’s Just For YOU❤

When you feel too weak to carry-on
Like I was few months ago
When it seems like everything is coming to an end
Just like the year 2017
When your goals seem far fetched
Like dreams stuck in the valley between time and life
When your worth looses its colour
Like blue skies on rainy days
When doubt fills you with emptiness
Like that plate on your table last night
When aspirations are diluted with fears
Like that poor soup, rich in watery elements
When all these setbacks squeeze your vision
Like straight dreams rumpled by nightmares
When your goals lay broken
Like the side mirror of a damaged vehicle
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gather the pieces together,
And watch your broken goals;
Pierce the feet of those defeats

You fell hard right?
Perfect!
For the intensity of your fall will help you bounce back high
#sohigh #allthewayup

Keep holding on to that thin line of hope
You. Are. Not. Alone.

November 30, 2017 5 comments
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Aloud

Dear November

by Eden Benibo November 4, 2017

 

Dear November,
Listen to the voice within my words;
As it speaks to you without talking

Remember,
The last time we met
I was beaten-up by the storms,
As goals clothed in nakedness
Laid, drenched in the pool of defeat-
Dripping from the cloud’s faucets

Remember,
I went aloft your aisle
Swimming in a flood of dryness,
As the winds blew pressure untold;
Revealing chubby dreams,
Drowning in the oceanarium of reality

Today,
I welcome you in a warm embrace
As we make a toast to triumph
For yes, I fell on my face
Not in my phase
I was pushed by the storm,
Pushed to the shores of greatness

Today
My heartbeats,
To the melodies of fulfillment
Indeed, the pressure-
Lead me out of my comfort zone;
To the realms of boundlessness.
For the storm unbleached my goals
And washed away my fears

Toady
I spread my hands,
As wide as the oceans-
Breathing the breath of freedom
For yes, I am free!
Free from the bonds of false freedom
And free from the fear of true freedom

Hey November,
Cheers!
It’s nice meeting you again
F R E E

-EDEN

 

November 4, 2017 9 comments
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Aloud

The Pieces of a circle-By- Egonu Benjamin-Mario

by Eden Benibo October 17, 2017

Egonu Benjamin-Mariođź””
Here’s a multi talented graduate of Economics from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN) .
Mario is a young creative writer who stands unwaveringly on the soil of positivity, with the courage and zeal to transcend having the gift of writing; as he also constantly nurtures this gift beyond all odds.
He is a poet who strongly believes that “the strokes of words paint images and at the same instant give life which never dies, unless those words forgotten”.
As ‘days bleed into years’, the hands of time incessantly reveal his footprints on the track of many literary accomplishments.
Aside his writing skills,he is also very good in the art of editing.
Editing not just the “writeups” but also, the “wrongdoings”. Replacing, negativity with positivity in the chronicles of Africa and the world at large.
We look forward to seeing Mario~
Glow on!🔥
Unremittingly impacting lives with the flames of positivity🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s the creatively knitted short story written by Benjamin-Mario popularly known by the pen name I_am_Mario_Cruzo

Pieces of a Circle
It was his Freshman {First} year in the university and Kennix (Ken) a handsome young guy, was walking briskly to the faculty hall to complete his clearance exercise. He was in the same haste as were other freshmen students of his set. The idea was to get to the hall in time in order to secure a good position on the queue in order to complete his clearance early enough.

In that mental state of anxiety and absent mindedness( he was literary lost in his thoughts of what eventualities his university days had in store for him), he didn’t notice the pretty young lady approaching him. He bumped into her. Only then was he sharply pulled back to reality. His eyes came in contact with that of the pretty girl who looked slightly dishevelled and in a state of shock. This was because she too had been lost in her thoughts as she was hurrying back to her hostel to get a document she needed for the clearance.

He issued a heartfelt apology to the girl whose name he soon came to know was Amanda (Mandy). They exchange contact and as the months go by, they get closer. Love grew from their friendship and so the story goes…they started dating. Although they were in different departments, they were an inseparable pair. They were both from very wealthy family backgrounds. So they were supposedly a perfect match.

In the second semester of their Sophomore {Second} year in the university, Kennix goes late to a particular general lecture and finds no vacant seat. A very loveable and gorgeous damsel offers to share her seat with him. He appreciates the gesture and after the lecture, he tries to find out a little more about her. He finds out that this charitably caring girl is called Leila and is from a Middle-class background.They get talking and slowly but steadily, they become very best of friends. Coupled with the fact that they were in the same department.

Leila as a very pretty girl has her fair share of romantic advances being made towards her by guys of different levels and class. Two of such guys are Breezy(a very rich and rugged cultist {Black axe}and Max ( A very intelligent genius and promising young man, with good moral upbringing). She turns all of them down. Because at this point she was already in love with Ken.

She finds it hard to let her feeling known to him directly but just shows it by her actions and unusual care towards him. Ken, on his own part, loves her too but couldn’t make it known because he was already in a relationship with Mandy.

Nancy, Leila’s best friend, keeps on advising and encouraging her to make her feelings known to Ken before it gets too late. But all of her advice falls on deaf ears. This is because Leila is afraid of being rejected or maybe because she wasn’t so sure if he feels the same way about her (She didn’t wanna look like a fool or a desperate girl).

In their Penultimate{third} year in the university, Leila finally opens up to Ken. He is caught in a dilemma of having to choose between Mandy and Leila. He loves Mandy too much to let her go (having come a long way with her) while Leila seems like every guy’s dream girl. They both decide to play along and see how long it lasts. Leila starts visiting him at his lodge occasionally. On one of those occasions, Mandy decides to pay Ken a surprise visit and meets ken with Leila. Ken lies to her that Leila is his Cousin. Mandy is temporarily satisfied with the explanation but becomes alarmed when the rate of visits by Leila increases.

Leila relates the recent happenings to Nancy, who warns her to be very careful. One thing leads to another, and Ken decides to propose to Mandy so as to calm her down and disprove her suspicion. Unknown to Ken, on one of those occasions when Leila had visited him and they got Intimate, she had been impregnated by him.

Leila starts noticing Significant changes in her body and a delay in her menstrual cycle. After the second month and her flow wasn’t forthcoming, she becomes alarmed. She confides in Nancy, who is equally shocked at the sad circumstance in which her best friend was. She goes for a pregnancy test and the suspicion is made true. She is 2 months and a week pregnant!!!

She informs Ken about the situation at hand, and he strongly persuades her to abort the foetus. All to no avail. Along the line, Mandy finds out about the secret relationship and the pregnancy. She breaks up with Ken and leaves him shattered.

Ken decides to channel his love and attention towards Leila who is now in her sixth month of pregnancy. A month later, Leila goes into premature labour. She delivers a baby boy but looses a lot of blood. She dies some hours later, due to complications during birth and severe haemorrhage, with these last words to Ken, ” I have loved you until my last breath. Let our Son remind you of our Love!”

The premature baby boy is kept in the Clinical Incubator till he becomes mature enough to survive at normal room temperature.

Ken takes full responsibility of the child and spends the rest of his days mourning the death of Leila.

The End.

I_am_Mario_Cruzo

October 17, 2017 18 comments
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Aloud

Writers They Are!-By- Mathias Bright

by Eden Benibo October 11, 2017

Mathias Brightđź””
Gratefully, here is a young man who understands the unconcealed secret of life, knowing fully well that life goes beyond what I call ‘myopic goals coated in selfish interest’.
To this end,  Mathias is an entrepreneur cognisant of the fact that life is veritably about the positive impacts we make in the lives of others.
He is a certified programme producer, a corporate MC, and a motivational speaker, who is currently a media pundit in the making.
He has an undiluted passion for inspiring people and making a positive difference in life.
Here in this writing community, the only fault we have with Mathias is that he is a creative writer by default. We’ve read some of his works and agreed that more of these salted words and needed in a seemingly tasteless world.
It’s in you Mathias!
Hearts need this art..
Let it flow
We look forward to reading more of your poems and articles.
Flow & Glow on!!!🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s the beauteous piece titled~ Writers They Are! By Mathias Bright

They call them writers, those that cling unto minutes running into hours just to weave phrases,that give unimaginable seldom answers to questions, unanswered.

Writers! They are those that go on a voyage of brain racking,Penning, just to ensure the supremacy of peace in the midst of mayhem.
Literature they are, those that ascertain that their linguistic unit makes no err when inks paint white plain just to correct wrongs rightly.
Scribers they are, those that sigh in the midst of mental frazzle-ness,but kept on in all vigor, the essence of upholding the placard of “The pen is mightier than the sword”.

“Wor(l)d” revolvers they are, those that in-scribe in letters,to resuscitate unconscious-consciousness, to make
Un-mattered matters matter.
Foreseers they are, those that, then! Now! They scribe,penning the future of the present past, yet unseen.
Fulfillers they are,those that write to live,just to live to write.

And this is me, with passionate nothingness trudge to daily live and act the first seven stanzas of this piece,just to be numbered among men who live by pen.
Living to create legacies untold but written in white and black, to the whites and blacks.

Me it is! who without grains to chew decides to pen for men to earn informed knowledge.
Sleep-waking in brainwaves, scribing, just to make out something out of nothing to fill up societal nothingness.

Here I am, plunging daily into stream of penning consciousness, just to have a memoir of a scriber attached to my name.
Living to always remember that we are called writers not because we write,but because we rightfully rewrite the tomorrow of today just to have the right world.

It’s ME! Breathing never to be out of ink to say that, we were! we are! and would always be, RIGHTERS!

October 11, 2017 2 comments
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Aloud

S C A R S -By- Rotimi Adeniyi (El Cypher)

by Eden Benibo October 10, 2017

Rotimi Adeniyiđź””
A soul that has the courage to feel everything so deeply, cutting through the crust of words unspoken. Aside his writing skills, he is also blessed with righting skills. He stands as one of the heroes of our time, thriving in positivity and setting free caged truth.
Looking through the tunnel of time past, Rotimi with a pseudonym El Cypher has proven time and again to be an epitome of unfaltering integrity, to this end we look forward to hearing more of his success stories…🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s a deep and beautiful poem~
S C A R S written by Rotimi 

How shall I sing this melody
with glued tongue twisted
by nature’s pride,
which corridor is etched with tracks of teeth.

Where shall I bury this skin?
in a grave of darkness to shade
its shame or in a cupboard of
desolated cocoon to hear it crumble.

What makes the night a knight,
if not a thousand tripping stars…
What makes the day a pathway
for the head to lead the league
of legs
if not the burn and churn of the sun..

But,
what mystery is laced up my face
to pouch it in my skin’s hide?
If beauty is ever a human;
tell me I’ve lost a destination of
where pulchritude reigns

El Cypher

 

October 10, 2017 4 comments
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Aloud

Kick of an Ancient Foetus- By-Ugbeh Doreen

by Eden Benibo October 6, 2017

Ugbeh Doreenđź””
ye.e.e.s, maybe this is the Doreen you know somehow, somewhere but I’m here to ‘tell’ you about the Doreen you probably do not know.
Personally, I’ve known Doreen for quite sometime now and if I was told she is a writer, I would easily dance to the melodies of that beat, cause I’ve known her to be an excellent feature writer (no hypes) but hey! I just got to know that Doreen is a poet!!! Did you…? She’s a big time ‘bone wracking’ poet for that matter.
According to Doreen, her love for literature was discovered back in the days when she was still a secondary school student.
No doubt writing poetry (or any art in particular) can be an uphill task, following lots of deterrent factors.
However, we must note that poetry is life. It’s our duty as poets to live it and not leave it. To glow in it and not go out of it. On this note, a huge congratulations to our very own Doreen for her choice to live poetry. Cause more undiluted poetry is needed…
Cheers!! To the greater heights that awaits you,Doreen.
Glow on!🥂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KICK OF AN ANCIENT FOETUS written by Doreen is one very deep poem. I’ll recommend its consumption for everyone.

Here’s the full poem💊 ~

Burning furnace, I pass through
Thoughts keep coming through
Wallowing in anguish and tears
Swallowing deceit and cruelty
Shallowish my world become
Left alone, chewing over dilemmas
Soul forbearing vengeance
a thinking cap will help break through
But it kicks within again
Scolding depression.

Obtaineth from my flesh, the warmth of the sun
Beholding from my eyes, the beauty of the cloud
Perceiving with my nose, the smell of heavenly drops
Earing with my ears, the sound of thunder strikes
Tasting with my mouth, delicacies from greens,
She kicks in excitement and wants to tell a tale.

Like a foetus in the womb; it kicks
A life inside a flesh worries, the arcane pen kicks
Consoling inner feelings without meetings
life and flesh decides to meet, and say that the world is empty
The optimistic foetus kicks thus; Pen of its emptiness
They conclude its dark; pen of its darkness
They say it’s rough; pen of its roughish.
Nevertheless, not omitting thy last kick
It kicks thus; Tell them it’s well
Expose the possibilities
Describe of a bright next.

The foetus is an old seed
Kicking constantly to tell about.
A foetus that forever leaves within;
It told my old man to grab a quill,
It tells me to grab a pen,
And it has been the best thing since then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doreen started writing due to her admiration of the inspiration behind poems, after ‘studying’ so many of them.
In her words “the pen and the book are always ready to listen to you in any sort of situation that gives a feeling best known to you”.

All the very best Doreen!
Glow on!!🥂

 

October 6, 2017 2 comments
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Aloud

The Symbol of Death -By- Toyosi Oni

by Eden Benibo October 5, 2017

Toyosi Oni, Yes! That’s one of the names that should ring a bell in your head whenever you think about one of the rising African voices to look out for. As an undergraduate of the University of Benin (UNIBEN), his works have been published on both local and international platforms.He tells the stories untold with such magnificent touch, taking you right to the scene you had never seen or even imagined.
It is said that the African story has been told myopically, but I can boldly say that with the hundreds of Toyosi(s) we have today, our stories would be rewritten the right way. Making the world realise,  inspite of the fact that the continent has been tagged with darkness, struggle and pain, we have our strength,our zeal, our will and the creativity to thrive beyond all odds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Symbol of Death written by Toyosi is a story about an old woman who tells the bitter story of her life with so much strength and tenacity. She is someone I describe as an epitome of resiliency.

Here’s the full story: ‘The Symbol of Death’

She looked at me and showed her gold-brown teeth. Since I started this conversation with her, she had never ceased to spice her replies with a smile. Her smile was enthrallingly sparkling. Even at seventy-eight, she still understood what hearty laughter was.’What of your children, mama, where are they?’ I asked.She looked startled at my question, her wrinkled, rumpled face radiated with pain. She looked down at the cloth in her hand and pressed her teeth together, revealing a bulge at the side of her cheek, a little beneath her ear. I smelt that my question seemed out of place and I quickly segued.’You were not born and raised in Lagos, right?’She squeezed the clothe in her hand and pressed it so hard I started to fear it would tear. I knew exactly what she was feeling. That burning anger against the unknown. I was however sad that I ignited that anger.

‘I heard your first question, my son’ She said.I knew she did. I was almost pushed to ask why she did not answer but discarded the thought as soon as it came.’Sit down’ she ordered.I lent my hand to grab the nearest stool. Something inside me wanted to go. Another thing told me to wait.

‘You see’ she started. ‘I got married at a very early age.’She looked towards the sky and bit her upper lip.’I had my first son at the age of eighteen. He was indeed a bouncing baby boy. I remember how happy I was that day. I had been walking around with my big tommy for nine months. My mum was the happiest for me. I was happy that she was happy. So, I named him ayo’. She smiled as she pronounced that name.I adjusted my buttocks on the surface of the stool and told myself that I must listen to her till the end.

‘Ayo’ she said and kept quiet for a while.’Ayo was a brilliant boy. Right from his young age he had always shone with brilliance. At age four, Ayo was my calculator. He’d calculate the expenses of a customer to the awe of others’. She smiled.I stared at her blankly wondering where the whole story was headed.’Today, Ayo is no more, he died during a car accident on his way back from work.’ She said this with a big smile crested on her lips. I was left in total wonderment as to how she could say such a sad story and still keep her smile.’I’m so sorry, mama’ I said.

‘My second son came four years after Ayo, although I had a girl in between’. I looked at her and wondered how she expected me understand that.’His name was Ibukun, he was just like his brother, bright. Haha! He’d always cry to be in my hands everyday. There was a day he cried for four hours, just because I refused to talk to him’ she laughed aloud. I replayed her joke in my head and damn! It was boring.’Ibukun went to school in a country called Cyprus. You know, his tuition fees were not paid by me, because he was on a scholarship’ I made a silent hmm and nodded my head wondering what was going on in her mind.’Last year, Ibukun was sentenced to fifty years imprisonment in Cyprus. They said he killed someone, my Ibukun killed someone. Hmmm.’ As she said this, her face was blank. She squeezed the clothe

‘My third son was born in 1961′. I tried to do the math and realized how dumb I was at calculating.’I named him, Ife. And of course you know what that means’ she said as if to ask.’Love, I believe’ I replied enthusiastically.’Yes. Three months after Ife was born, he started walking, of course with the aid of things’ She paused and squeezed the cloth in her hand.’I remember Ife’s primary school days. He would wait in front of his wooden school, while I prepared to take him home’ She laughed. This time louder. So loud I began to wonder what this woman called funny.’Ife gained admission like his brother but he was in Nigeria. He was loved by his classmates, he loved playing football and was killed during one of his football matches’ she said as she smirked her lips. Tears were trying to come out of my eyes as I realized that she was talking about the death of her third son.

‘My fourth son. He was the conservative type. He hated crowdy areas. I remember how he angrily left his friend’s graduation party. When the celebrant’s mum told me. I simply told her that he just used that as cover. He hated crowdy places. I told her how I forced him to come to that party’. It was at this point that I started to notice a line from the side of her eyes.

‘Two years ago, sometime in October, he slept and never woke up’. She said this and I could filter the pain from her voice. She paused for a while and looked straight at me. Her lips moved as though she was muttering something.

‘I named him Kokumo’ she said as she squeezed the clothe.I paused and replayed the sequence of deaths. The first, second, third and fourth. I was creating the perfect line to console her in my mind. Her voice broke the silence.’My fifth and last son was named Malomo. After I gave birth to him, that happiness that accompanies childbirth was absent in me. I was scared and prayed seconds after he came out that God gives him a long life.’ I was scared and prayed silently that she would not squeeze the clothe.She looked at me and saw it. That fear. That shock.She threw the symbol of death away and smiled. At least I was happy that she was not going to squeeze it anymore. I expected her to say something but she was quiet.’Where is he?’ I asked with a somewhat faint voice.’OK’ she said.’I mean, where is he?’ I asked again.’He is… ‘ She said as she blinked her eyes.At this point she could not fight back her tears. I could not either. We both cried. Something popped into my mind. What of their father? I closed my eyes and decided that I was not going to ask that question.

‘Please say something.’ I said and this time my voice was loud.’He is… ”Yes?’ I asked.’He is… d… d…’ she said.I was staring at her waiting for a reply.’He is… what?”I saw him yester…’ she said.’OK?”He is dead’.The last hope was dead.I cried. I cried really hard.

The End

~…Toyosi is driven by passion and constantly seeks to grow in knowledge. For leisure,  he listens to reggae music, read novels and play games. 

October 5, 2017 4 comments
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Eden Benibo is a writer, story teller and thought leader whose works revolve around positivity, . . . Read More

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